


Brewing Love

by Sparcina



Series: Iron Webs to Covet [24]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Gryffindor Peter, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Professor Stark, Slytherin Tony, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:15:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29476839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparcina/pseuds/Sparcina
Summary: Peter's crush on Professor Stark, head of Slytherin, is getting out of hand.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Series: Iron Webs to Covet [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/779883
Comments: 26
Kudos: 85





	Brewing Love

**Author's Note:**

> **Thanks** to itfeelssogoodmrstark and LivviBee for the boost to my muse!
> 
>  **Note about Peter's age and the rating** : Peter fantasizes about Professor Stark through his teens, but nothing sexual happens between them until he's 18. He started Hogwarts at 12 (1 year late), so he'll be 18 during his 7th year (when the Explicit rating becomes *more* relevant).

Peter’s crush wasn’t a problem in his first year. He’d mourned the Sorting Hat’s decision to place him in Gryffindor, but his appreciation for Professor Stark back hadn’t stemmed from desire, nor did it keep him awake at night. Yes, he found the bold man handsome and riveting. Everyone was in awe of Professor Stark, including the rest of the staff (except Director Fury, but Director Fury was weird and disliked a lot of things and people). The potion master was the most charismatic person had ever met, hands down. Professor Stark just had that kind of charisma that made all the girls go ‘wow’ and a fair number of boys, too.

At twelve (Peter had received his letter a little late). Peter was mostly interested in getting Professor Stark’s approval. He worked hard in Potions, not that the class was a hardship, never mind all those students who complained of the forty-inch-long essays. Professor Stark was an amazing teacher. Peter soaked everything he said like a sponge, and always wanted more.

“You’re crazy,” Ned told him, agonizing over the last five inches of his own essay.

“You can copy mine,” Peter replied with a smile. The ink on his parchment had finished drying.

Ned stared at him like Peter had grown an extra head.

“And lose fifty points because it’s obvious? No, thanks.”

Peter rolled his own essay, eager to see what Professor Stark had to say about the daring theory on which he based his work. There would probably be a lot of red. Professor Stark was a _generous_ grader, and liked to tease between scathing (but helpful) remarks. Peter didn’t mind the teasing, even when it was a little insulting. He learned a lot from Professor Stark’s spidery handwriting.

And he loved to learn.

*

“Good work, Mr. Parker.”

The first time Peter earned Professor Stark’s seal of approval, he was thirteen, and half-way through his second year at Hogwarts. He’d been doing extra studying the night before in the hope to impress his teacher, and impress him he did. He’d watched Professor Stark often enough (in person, or in those appealing issues of _Potioneer Monthly_ featuring the handsome man) to recognize the tiniest variation in his expression. A twitch of lips. Satisfaction wrapped up in surprise, flashing in the man’s sharp eyes. He liked how expressive those brown eyes were.

“Thank you,” Peter said softly, promptly ducking his head to try and hide his blush.

Professor Stark scoffed. “Don’t get used to it.”

Peter wanted to get used to it.

*

At fourteen, Peter stopped borrowing the potion magazines from MJ: he bought them. His friend, thankfully, kept her opinion of Peter’s jerking material to a few judgmental glances when Peter showed up late for breakfast.

Peter masturbated. A _lot_. He didn’t talk to Ned about it, even if he’d heard his best friend jerk off in the bed next to him a couple of times. He just… liked to pretend no one but him knew about his crush. If his friends didn’t know, they couldn’t tell him it was wishful thinking, right? Or that he should give his dick a break. Or try and charm the pants off Rhodey, instead. Rhodey was nice. Handsome enough, Peter supposed. But no one at Hogwarts made his blood boil like Professor Stark did.

“Distraction in this class could cost you dearly.”

Peter didn’t drop his wand, but it came close. Professor Stark was so quiet when he moved, and he’d come to stand just behind Peter to deliver his verdict.

“S-Sorry,” Peter stuttered, and hastily added a pinch of dragon scales. The potion turned a bright pink, which meant he’d done something wrong. Shame uncurled in his gut and made it hard to think. The fact that Professor Stark still stood _right there_ , waiting for the inevitable result of Peter’s distraction, only muddled his thoughts further.

“It would be a shame, to let your efforts go to waste,” Professor Stark said, and covered Peter’s hand with his own, whispering a spell under his breathe that Peter didn’t recognize.

Professor Stark’s hand was large, warm and callused, and Peter had spent too many nights fantasizing about the pleasure such hands could give for his thoughts _not_ to go down that road at once. He stiffened, and his teacher’s hand tightened on his as they brewed the potion together.

“Here,” the teacher whispered, and Peter watched the mixture in his cauldron return to an innocent green. “Now, focus.”

And just like that, Peter was alone in front of his cauldron again. The hand Professor Stark had held burned something fierce, and his dick was so hard he would only need to a couple strokes to explode insides his pants.

Thank fuck for robes.

*

Peter got an _Outstanding_ in Potions, so of course, he continued with that class during his fourth year.

Unfortunately, that was the year Professor Stark chose to leave. An undercover job, according to the ghosts wandering the corridors near the Slytherin quarters, and it made Peter’s heart ache at the thought of not seeing his favorite teacher for so long. He wondered if Professor Stark would be in danger. Had to assume that he would be. The Purple Lord may be dead, obliterated by the Avengers a decade ago, but dark wizards would always be around. It was a good thing Professor Stark was skilled with a wand. The range of the nonverbals spells he mastered would no doubt come in handy during this… job.

“Don’t be like that, Pete,” Ned told Peter, interrupting his friend’s daily mopping session. “He’ll be back soon enough.”

“Right.”

 _Soon enough_ was one year, and it was three hundred fifty-two days too long in Peter’s opinion. He missed the teacher’s sharp humor. The low rumble of his voice as he shot instructions to the class… and when he let Peter knew that he did _good_.

His libido didn’t get the message that Professor Stark wasn’t around for now, and Peter kept masturbating to increasingly detailed (and explicit) fantasies. He _had_ given the whole dating someone his age a go and kissed a boy in Ravenclaw, a sharp blond with ridiculously good aim for hexes nicknamed Hawkeye. But it had been just that: a kiss. No butterflies in Peter’s belly. His cock hadn’t stirred at all.

Peter kept thinking about Professor Stark, and somehow, his instant dislike for Professor Hammer only fueled his desire to have his favorite teacher creep into his dorm at night and fuck him _hard_. Professor Hammer was a jerk. He had no idea what he talked about and gave Peter an E. A bloody E, when Peter knew very well that Professor Stark would have given him an O. The asshole probably had no clue what Peter had written in that fifty-two-inch essay (which was _twenty_ inches more than the required minimum).

“Hammer’s dumb,” Peter told the bottle of Firewhiskey a cold night of November.

“You probably know best,” Ned said, and patted him on the back.

Peter, who had been about to take a sip, spilled the amber liquid all over his lap. Ned was quick to apologize.

“It’s okay,” Peter said with a wan smile. “I’ve drunk enough already. I should go to bed.”

“You do have _three_ optional classes.”

“What can I say? I love learning.”

Ned arched an eyebrow, but didn’t comment on that half-lie. Sure, Peter was brilliant, and spent more time studying than any three Gryffindors put together, but that wasn’t the reason he’d started collecting electives.

He needed a distraction from the giant hold left by Professor Stark’s absence, and while Arithmancy, Study of Ancient Runes, and Cares of Magical Creatures filled the time he would otherwise have spent wandering by the Great Lake hoping to get ~~eaten by~~ a peek of the Giant Squid, they didn’t exactly soothe the ache he had deep within. Knowledge only nurtured the mind. Pumpkin pudding and date loaves only fed his belly.

What about what his heart needed?

That night, Peter tried to rationalize it all (with the latest issue of _Potioneer Monthly_ pressed to his chest). Crushes came and went, at least according to every book he’d read on the subject. And May, who’d find one too many potion magazines with Professor Stark on the cover not to figure out her nephew’s current obsession.

Peter would get over Professor Stark.

Because this was just a crush, right?


End file.
